Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Yay for YA

Yesterday I confessed something on twitter, and I feel the need to share it here, too.

I love young adult fiction.

There. I said it.

(Though if you've been paying attention to this blog, it's not really a secret.)

Harry Potter , The Twilight Saga , Percy Jackson and the Olympians , and The Hunger Games: all of these novels make me swoon. Make me happy. Make me sit on the couch for hours reading and wishing that I was a wizard who's parent is a Greek God and who has a beautiful vampire who will save me from the evil government that is trying to kill me in the Hunger Games.

I know I'm not the only one. We all have a guilty pleasure that makes us question our sanity. We all have something that we love, something that we feel a little weird sharing with others.

I admit that I feel a tiny bit ashamed to say that I'd much rather read a book written for a 14-year-old than a Jane Austen novel (unless it has zombies).

Shouldn’t I be reading something that’s full of words that I don’t know? Shouldn’t I be struggling through something written by a famous guy who died two centuries ago? Shouldn’t I be reading something that’s teaching me things other than the politics of werewolves and vampires, or the magical charm for unlocking a door?

Sure, often times I'm happy to pick up a book that's little more intellectual, a little more complicated, a little more appropriate for my age. But the truth is that I like to read for fun. I like to read to escape. I like to read because it's entertaining. I like to read to imagine. A lot of young adult fiction has all of this, and a lot of young adult fiction is written by amazing storytellers. And there's nothing wrong with liking that.


So, I'm asking you: what is your guilty pleasure. Is it trashy reality TV? Romance novels? Tabloid magazines? Justin Bieber?

You don't have to be ashamed. I won't make fun of you.

(At least not to your face.)

PS: If your guilty pleasure includes drama and awesomeness in the female blogging community, check out She Posts. I have a huge bloggy crush on the editor, Esther, and I'm running their twitter account. So why wouldn't you check it out?

Friday, May 7, 2010


The other day I spent some time pulling weeds. It had been raining, so it was easy to get the little buggers out of the ground. But with the soft, wet ground, came gross, slimy worms.

I just don't like them. They're all creepy and crawly and they come out of nowhere. Like when I pulled a large clump of dandelions from the ground and a herd? gaggle? pod? family? of worms came pouring out of the dirt. There were billions bunches 5 of them, and I was not pleased.

So I ran to the door and calmly asked Mike how he felt about worms, because I care about his emotions and all. He informed me that he didn't like them, which really fucked up my plan to pretend to care about his emotions when really I just wanted him to come outside and pull the weeds from the worm infested area. So I told him there were millions of worms crawling out of the ground and I needed his help and he asked what I needed help with and I said picking the weeds from the danger zone... and helping to save the worms.

Mike: Wait... save them from what?

Me: The concrete. They're all displaced in the sun and they're all going to burn up and die so get out here and help me save them.

Mike: But you don't like them!

Me: True, but I'M NOT A MONSTER!!! I may not be fond of them but I respect their purpose on this planet, and I don't want to be responsible for a worm massacre. WHO DO YOU THINK I AM?

Mike: So let me get this straight: You want me to go outside and re-bury them?

Me: Well, just get them back onto the grass and they can... burrow?

Mike: Yeah, no.

Me: Miiiiiiiiiikkkkkkkkeeeeee.

*Mike put his headphones on which I'm pretty sure means he wants to listen to music while talking to me, which is sort of rude but also kind of understandable, so I screamed.*


*Shockingly, that didn't work.*

So I did what needed to be done and got a stick and proceeded to pick up the squiggly bastards with the end of the stick and placed them in some dirt and covered them up so the sun wouldn't dry their slimy little bodies out because I'm a wonderful person.

And I've made my peace with the cluster of weeds sitting in that part of the yard.

It's decorative.